Men of Rohan
by Grendon
Summary: An Rohan village is attacked and two warriors must overcome their pain and loss to help the survivors. A story of friendship I hope.


Disclaimer – These characters with the exception of Erkenbrand I have created but, of course, this world belongs to the Tolkien Estate.  
  
This is based around the time Rohan is being attacked by Isengard Orcs and the Men of Dunland. The story takes place in one of the outlying villages, probably somewhere in Westfold. I hope you like it!  
  
*******  
  
"So you love me then?" she asked of the tall Warrior of Rohan.  
  
"You know how I feel. If you would not be with me then you also know I would wonder alone in grief and probably stumble up Mount Doom and cast myself in!" He reached out for her hands and enclosed them in his own. They were strangely cold.  
  
She laughed merrily and stepped close to him. "The Orcs and evil things of Mordor would kill you first," she said with her quiet, gentle voice.  
  
"It would not matter. I would slay many first but to help this land as I could."  
  
"You need not head East," She said with a smile and then a sadness took her. "You know I love you beyond all the doom of Men. My love for you will carry on in some form even if all that is good across the plains and mountains of Middle Earth diminished."  
  
The land about seemed to glow like some beautiful Elvish dream. The grey- green hue of the twilight forest alighting, fading to white. He buried his head in her long hair, splayed across her slight shoulder and was glad. The white light seemed to becoming more intense but the happiness in his heart allowed him to pay it no heed. Maybe they should both flee south. Tidings had come more than once of the growing shadow in the East and rumors concerning a darkness brewing in Isengard. Men lived in fear and doubt. He wished only for action to be taken; orders from the King to muster great armies and ride. He wanted greatly to aid Rohan if trouble comes but also maybe just to flee with Fayre always staying ahead of the shadow. Maybe what the wise speak of will come true; maybe men have no fate other than to face their doom. For now his duty was at least clear and that was to protect his village. He sighed sadly but a contentment glowed from within him and his spirits rose to the wonder of what she was to him.  
  
It seemed their embrace would last many lives of men. He finally looked up from her soft shoulder to only white. All was white. What was happening? He suddenly realized tears were running down his cheeks and then the cold hands became more apparent. The white light faded into the colours of an ancient wooden hall and reality hit him like he had been smote down by a thunderous troll hammer. The blood-soaked village hall. Fayre!  
  
A gruff voice was heard somewhere. It seemed faint to him; the faded voice of a dying race calling to him but failing. "Hengest! Hengest! Where are you? Haleth has fallen. I am hurt in body and heart. We are not enough so we must flee!"  
  
"Rohan is falling!" shouted another voice, just another ghost voice to him. He was surrounded in shadow and darkening red. All sound went away but for a constant lowly rumble and maybe the sound of a soft wind. Doom had found him and his mind spat out Fayre to him. Again the name. Fayre! Death! . Hengest looked upon the body of his beloved with a deathly, blurry vision. He rested her cold hands against her still breast and attempted to stand but he could not and he fell back to his knees and wept deeply. He became engulfed in a great sorrow and would not master himself. Many Orcs lay slain about his bent over figure, weeping near the hearth of the wooden hall.  
  
Latimer, another guard of the settlement arrived at the threshold. He was bleeding from his upper left arm. "Hengest! Do you not hear me? Come!." Latimer looked down to realize a Uruk still lived and was pulling its broken body towards Hengest and it bore a jagged short blade. "Filthy... Tark!" it spat. Hengest did not react to the foul sound that came from the Orc mouth. Latimer presumed Hengest was badly wounded also and staggering forward, he thrust his sword down into the back of the Orc's neck. It made a gurgling noise and passed away and then Latimer realized why Hengest was unresponsive. Fayre lay in death before him. Latimer too was overcome with a great sorrow and he wept but he had to master both himself and Hengest.  
  
Latimer placed a gentle hand on Hengest's shoulder. "Stand Hengest! We have to leave now. Do not let your hurt burden you for now."  
  
"Leave me here. I will defend her body. They will not leave her be. There is no hope for Rohan now." Hengest spoke softly and would not look at Latimer; always he looked at her face still bearing a great beauty even in death.  
  
"Do not say such things! Please I beg you to stand. We will be needed."  
  
"No more Rohan. I will die here and we will lie in death together. The Orcs will destroy our bodies but I will be with her again in some form." Hengest finally looked up at Latimer and said , "Farewell Latimer. May you find glory in death." Hengest returned his vacant look back to Fayre.  
  
"No! Hengest! I cannot leave you here to die! I have lost too many who are close to me already. Rohan needs you! I need you!" cried Latimer but Hengest ignored him. "The great plains! The riders! Helm Hammerhand! Eorl! The glory of Rohan! All this means nothing to you. We have so much and it must be preserved. We must go to Helm's –"He suddenly convulsed with pain. His wound was deep and needed attention. "We must head for Helm's Deep. That is where the King will go. We will find Erkenbrand, lord of Westfold first. We can muster a few men still. You have to save your grief for later. I'm so sorry Hengest!"  
  
At the mention of the name Erkenbrand, Hengest had stirred. Something kindled within. Hands shaking and his mind in chaos he stood slowly to his full height.  
  
"I will seek death with you then Latimer, friend of old. Hearken to this! I will join her soon!  
  
Latimer half-smiled and picked up Hengest's sword which lay near Fayre and he held it aloft. Again pain stabbed through Latimer and he faltered. Hengest steadied Latimer and took the blade from him and they left the hall.  
  
Outside most of the village guard were dead, a small group remained fighting while trying to fall back out of the village in the hope they could outrun the Uruks on the plains. Most the horses had been killed or driven away. Some villagers hopelessly fought on with forks and stones, choosing to defend their homes rather than flee. Men and women; the young and the old lay slain. Haleth, brother of Latimer was cast down over a broken table. Their father lay nearby. He had put himself in front of Haleth and Latimer, telling them to flee with the women and children. "Find Erkenbrand! You will be safe with him. Live on my sons. This cannot be the end. I love you both!" And then he had died before them hacked down by more than one crude Uruk blade. Haleth could not be restrained and he also was slain. Together they lay now hand in hand whilst Orcs raped and pillaged the village around them. Latimer looked away and lead Hengest to the group of guards who still lived.  
  
Together they threw themselves into the fray with a great fury and slaughtered enough Orcs to ensure a hasty retreat for the remaining men of the village. Seven there were and they ran with speed, scattering slightly across the plain. Latimer lagged behind and finally stumbled and fell. Hengest and another warrior drew him up and they both ran bearing him as best they could. Some Orcs gave chase but soon they lost interest and returned to the now burning village.  
  
They had ran about a half a league when they caught up with the surviving women and children. There was one joyful reunion as one of the town guard discovered his family had managed to flee. The attack had been so sudden and the Orcs had come from more than one direction. Latimer recalled how fifty village folk had fled towards the northern hill, sent there by the village guard. Upon reaching the wooded crest they were ambushed by Orcs. All died in seconds. Death was all that lied on his mind. Latimer could not think coherently and then his vision blurred with another blast of pain. He fell to his knees.  
  
"Father!" he said with a grimace. Then he bowed his head to the ground and was silent.  
  
Hengest looked at Latimer and then to the others. "We need to bind his arm for now but I think he has been poisoned." One of the guards and a young woman stepped forth to tend to Latimer's wounds. Hengest sat against a nearby lonely tree, watching them help his friend. He would get these people to safety first. To Erkenbrand, lord of Westfold at Helm's Gate. That was his duty for now and then once the task was done he would die.  
  
To be continued.... 


End file.
